


The Beautiful Ones

by thekeyholder



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Egypt, Alternate Universe - Historical, Enemies to Lovers, Holiday Fic Exchange, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 18:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/pseuds/thekeyholder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ancient Egypt AU that takes place during Akhenaten's (Amenhotep IV) reign. Crowley as the pharaoh's advisor becomes highly suspicious of princess Nefertiti and especially her guardian, Aziraphale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was my gift for Payton in the [Good Omens Holiday Exchange 2013](http://go-exchange.livejournal.com/). Many thanks go to irisbleufic for the beta!
> 
> It's my first story in this fandom and also first time writing a proper sex scene, so go easy on me, guys!

**Berlin, 19 th November 2013**

 

A man in a black coat rushed into the looming façade of the Egyptian Museum, fleeing the frantic snowstorm outside. He cursed through his teeth, straightening his upturned collar and taking off his black leather gloves. Damn the cold; he'd never liked it.  He didn’t even clearly understand why he was there. He had a feeling, as if he'd got a telepathic request to be there.

 

He suspected where he was needed. He soon found himself in a large and strangely (but conveniently) deserted room, its dark green walls enclosing a single showcase in the center. A single visitor stood motionless in front of it. He joined the other man, brushing their shoulders together in familiarity. Together, they admired the most famous piece held in the museum.

 

The man with the black coat silently read the description under the sculpture:

 

 

_Bust of Queen Nefertiti (1368? – 1336? B.C.)_

_This masterpiece was found in 1912 by a German archaeological team. It is one of the best artworks of the Amarna period, made around 1345 by the court sculptor Thutmose. The realistic depiction of the pharaoh’s Great Wife was something very innovative, for pharaohs and their wives were considered gods and goddesses; therefore, in previous periods they were shown in formal positions and without any flaws. Yet here one can notice that the artist applied even some fine wrinkles around Nefertiti’s eyes._

 

 

He was about to ask “Is this why you called me, angel?” when his companion spoke.

 

“Over three thousand years have passed, and she’s still considered one of the most beautiful women in the world,” Aziraphale murmured, raking his fingers idly through his hair, eyes settling on Crowley's sharp profile.

 

“A little make-up works wonders on anyone, Aziraphale.”

 

“Oh, come now,” protested the angel. “You were there beside her in the worst moments, and you must admit, my dear, that she didn’t need make-up. She was a wise, strong, and charismatic queen.”  He spoke reverently, letting his words trail into silence.

 

“She really was,” Crowley agreed, an unsettling memory abruptly crossing his mind.

 

“You’re not still mad at her, are you?” Aziraphale whispered, nudging Crowley with a teasing smile.

 

“Of course not!” Crowley huffed, avoiding Aziraphale’s eyes as he unbuttoned his coat.

 

“You know, I do miss our time there,” Aziraphale admitted, his shoulder brushing Crowley’s.

 

“True, the weather was much better,” Crowley sighed wistfully. “People were easier to tempt.  It took so much less effort than I'm even willing to expend now.”

 

That remark earned him a sardonic glance.  “Which, you must admit, isn't much.  And I thought you’d mention the wine,” sighed Aziraphale, closing his eyes, remembering the divine taste. “That hot, dry climate made it exceptionally sweet.”

 

Smiling, with his eyes still closed, he didn't notice Crowley edging closer and leaning in to whisper in his ear: “That hot weather made _you_ exceptionally sweet.”

 

Aziraphale opened his eyes and scowled, but Crowley saw the challenge beyond the frown, and smiled smugly as he led Aziraphale out of the museum, excited to revive certain memories.

 

He found that he didn’t mind the cold weather anymore.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

**Thebes, 1366 B.C.**

 

Crowley loved what would one day become known as the New Kingdom; he loved Egypt in general. Why wouldn’t he? The weather was perfect, and rain only fell in certain months. Even more importantly, people were simple and didn’t wish for much: extra money to make ends meet, carnal pleasures, or land. Of course, this didn’t mean that noblemen or pharaohs weren’t easy prey for the demon. They wished for even more wealth, carnal pleasures, and power.

 

“But pharaohs have all that!” one might say. Yes, but who spurred greed in them? Who inspired their decisions to raise taxes and create more bureaucratic red tape? Who made them pine for maids? Who nurtured their vanity to the point that they believed themselves to be gods? Crowley was there, behind every leader, nudging and prodding when it suited him. He liked assuming different characters, but he always had lots and lots of money. It was necessary in this job.

 

One day, however, he got strange instructions from Down Below. He was ordered to become good friends with the second son of the current pharaoh (Amenhotep III). Not the crown prince, but the second-born. It was odd, as he hadn't known the pharaoh had another son as well. For the first time in many years, he assumed the body of a child since this boy (he was called Amenhotep like his father) was around six or seven years old.

 

Crowley pretended to be the son of a wealthy nobleman and received the same education from the priests as little Amenhotep. He listened to rumours and found out that the pharaoh and his family shunned the boy because of his unusual physical appearance. Amenhotep was skinny and had long limbs and eyes too big for his elongated face. The other boys and his family ignored him, so he welcomed Crowley’s friendship with open arms.

 

The demon went to school during the day and got drunk at night. He found his double life very funny. His Boss wouldn’t comment anything as long as he followed orders, and the truth was that it wasn’t very difficult to become Amenhotep’s best friend. He did not expect it, though, that he’d grow to like the boy: Amenhotep seemed to live in his own world with interesting ideas crossing his mind, readily sharing them with his friend.

 

When the time came, Crowley showed him how grown men had fun. He also encouraged Amenhotep’s disdain for his father and what he represented. He planted ideas and waited for them to bloom in the young man’s head. Then, around 1353, Amenhotep’s brother, the crown prince, died, and Crowley wondered if Hell had known all along that this would happen. He grudgingly admired his superiors' foresight; planting one of their agents so early beside the future pharaoh had, perhaps, provided many benefits to Hell.

 

Crowley noticed that people started treating Amenhotep differently, and he saw that the future king was repulsed by this falsehood. This was going to be fun for him to watch. One day, the pharaoh brought up the subject of marriage, and that worried the prince and Crowley in equal measure. The pharaoh sent out letters to the kings of neighbouring countries. After months of conversing, he chose a bride and sent treasures to the other kingdom in exchange for the girl. She was expected to arrive in three months.

 

A month later, Amenhotep III died (after almost forty years on the throne). His son, Amenhotep IV, succeeded him, and no one was shocked when he appointed Crowley as his advisor. The young man was just getting used to his new duties when a herald arrived at court and announced that the foreign princess would arrive the next day.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

**Somewhere in the Levant, November 1351 B.C.**

 

Aziraphale quite liked how the world was getting on.

 

The smell of papyrus scrolls made him giddy, and he loved working as a scribe. Besides, being an angel, doing good was so easy in those years. People appreciated even a few kind words or a reassuring smile. He was working in the king’s library, transcribing stories when an unexpected message, written in an iridescent ink, appeared on the scroll:

 

_Whatever the king asks of you tomorrow, accept it._

 

The message disappeared in that instant. He found the order curious, naturally, but he knew that it was coming from Above and that he had to obey it. He did hope, though, that it would not be something unpleasant or something that would keep him away from the library for too long.

 

Oh, how wrong he was…

 

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

He wasn’t surprised when the king asked to see him the next day. He stepped into the ruler’s private chamber and bowed politely.

 

“Aziraphale, my good friend!” the king exclaimed. “How are you today?”

 

“Very well, Your Majesty. I hope you are in good health as well?”

 

“Of course. Aziraphale, I think you heard that I have been negotiating with the pharaoh of Egypt. He wants to find a suitable match for the crown prince, and we have finally agreed on the matter. My daughter is to marry prince Amenhotep and become the wife of the next pharaoh,” the king said with a satisfied smile.

 

“Congratulations, Your Highness,” the angel replied, not quite sure where he came in.

 

“Now, I know you are a solitary man and that you treasure scrolls and writing above anything else, but I believe you are the only one who can do this. My daughter is going to a far-away land, and I cannot accompany her. She will need an honest and wise man to be there for her, to guide her and advise her in the difficult moments on her journey.”

 

“Your Highness…” Aziraphale started, but was interrupted.

 

“Please. I have known you for years; you are the most loyal and trustworthy person in the kingdom. Besides, my daughter likes you. She says you were her best teacher, and I am sure she will feel safer with you around. Will you be her guardian?”

 

Aziraphale sighed; by choice, he wouldn’t have accepted this mission, but he couldn’t ignore the orders. He looked up slowly and nodded in acceptance, although his mind rebelled against it.

 

 

* * * * *

 

**One Week Later**

 

Aziraphale found himself under the blazing sun, riding beside the princess at the front of the caravan and praying that the trek would spare them of any perils. He loathed that he had to leave his comfortable position at court, although it seemed that he wasn’t the only one who was dissatisfied with the whole situation.

 

Princess Nefertiti looked ahead with her lips pursed tightly, anger burning in her dark eyes.

 

Later, when they stopped for the night, Aziraphale also noticed tears which were trapped in those eyes, tears which were never allowed to be seen shining on the princess’s cheeks. He felt sorry for Nefertiti: she was so young, only sixteen years old, and she was being sent off to a foreign country to marry a prince who she had never met before.

 

The angel sat down beside the girl, who watched the fire dancing, and offered her a bowl of dates.

 

“Your Highness, I know you’re facing the biggest challenge in your life so far, but I assure you that you won’t be forced into anything. If you find the prince disagreeable, you don’t have to marry him,” Aziraphale murmured, so that no one else heard their discussion.

 

“My lord, I wish things were that easy. I know your words were meant to soothe me, but I am afraid I cannot even entertain that thought. Were I to refuse the marriage, war could break out between Egypt and my father’s kingdom. I cannot allow that.”

 

Aziraphale’s stomach clenched; he didn’t expect the princess to be so insightful. He tried to cheer her up: “Nevertheless, I’ll be there beside you, Your Highness. Don't worry.”

 

“Thank you. Please, call me Tadukhipa. I feel odd with you addressing me as ‘Your Highness’.”

 

“Very well. Then I insist you call me Aziraphale from now on.”

 

They were on the way to becoming very good friends.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

**Thebes, January 1352 B.C.**

 

Amenhotep and Crowley waited in front of the palace, the whole staff and circle of nobility joining them. The caravan was already visible on the horizon; the young pharaoh’s anxiety rose with every step they drew closer. Amenhotep was fidgeting, wiping his forehead every five seconds, and humming an annoying song.

 

“Stop it. You're making me nervous,” Crowley hissed.

 

“I can’t! What if she's ugly? I’ll be the one tied to her for the rest of my life, not you!”

 

“I don’t think the king would offend you that way. Just wait and see. Rumours say she's pretty.” Crowley had made that up on the spot. He hoped it would be true; otherwise, he would have to listen to Amenhotep’s complaints for decades.

 

“If I don’t like her, you should marry her,” Amenhotep offered slyly. “After all, marrying the pharaoh’s Chief Advisor is a great honour – the king wouldn’t object to that.”

 

Crowley just glared at him menacingly.

 

Not much later the caravan arrived. The guards at the front stepped aside to let the princess and her guardian come forth. Amenhotep and Crowley both watched curiously as the princess lifted the shawl covering her head. Their eyes widened as they took in her beauty.

 

“ _Nefertiti_ ,” Amenhotep whispered, amazed. “The beautiful one has come.”

 

While the young pharaoh continued to stare at his betrothed, Crowley’s eyes wandered to the princess's guardian. At first, he didn’t notice anything odd, not until their gazes met. Only the man’s eyes were visible beneath his linen head-covering. And yet, Crowley recognised that pair of blue eyes – strange as it was among all of those dark ones.  He would have recognised those eyes anyywhere, because there was only one man with such celestial eyes.

 

Shock and anger rose in him: _Aziraphale._

 

What the _hell_ was he doing there?

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

Tadukhipa heard the muffled sigh, even though Aziraphale tried to cover it with a cough. She followed her guardian’s eyes and frowned when she realised that he was staring at the man standing beside the pharaoh. He didn’t look familiar to her.

 

“Do you know that man?” she whispered.

 

Aziraphale got off his camel and went to Tadukhipa’s side to help her off her camel.

 

“Now is not the time to discuss this,” was his only answer.

 

They'd only made two steps when Tadukhipa remarked: “I don’t see the pharaoh, the old one. Is he…?”

 

The angel frowned. Well, this turn of events changed things.

 

“Indeed, it looks like your betrothed is a pharaoh now. What are your first impressions?” he whispered.

 

“I…I don’t know. He has an unusual appearance, but that doesn’t mean anything. His look is sharp, though, so I hope he is not a dumb one.”

 

Aziraphale hid his smile.

 

The official greetings were said and Aziraphale’s face darkened when he heard that Crowley was the Chief Advisor of Amenhotep. Tadukhipa confidently presented the gifts her father had sent, and the angel admired her for her grace. It seemed that the pharaoh was enchanted by her. The guests were shown to their rooms and told that princess was expected to dine with her future husband that evening.

 

Aziraphale couldn’t wait to wash away the dust of the road. He could, of course, keep himself cool even in the unbearable hotness of the desert, but nothing beat the feeling of water on his skin. As the princess’s guardian, he got a washing room beside his large bedroom, along with a slave who would fulfil all his needs. Aziraphale closed his eyes as the slave poured water on him and then rubbed sweet-scented oils in his skin.

 

He relaxed and directed his thoughts towards his ward. He hoped that Tadukhipa would have a nice time with Amenhotep that evening. Since their marriage had been arranged, the angel could do a bit of _... tweaking_ to ameliorate it _._ Still, they needed to be at least a tiny bit compatible.

 

Despite Aziraphale’s ardent wish to clear his head with bathing, his biggest worry was still eating at him. He couldn’t stop asking himself what Crowley’s plans might be. He had to be careful; that snake surely didn’t have good intentions.

 

 

* * * * *

 

**The Next Day**

 

After having breakfast and making sure that the princess – _Nefertiti,_ as the court had begun to call her out of deference to their king _,_ and which name she was in no position to reject – had a fine evening, Aziraphale, not surprisingly, sought out the library. He was pleased, extremely so, by the scroll collection. In that moment he didn’t mind moving back to Egypt at all. Noticing a separate shelf, reserved probably for the more special items, he moved there and studied it with wide eyes.

 

Suddenly, someone grabbed his tunic and slammed him up against the wall.

 

“Why are you here, angel?” a low voice hissed.

 

Aziraphale's head lolled to the left. “Looking for reading material, of course.”

 

“Don’t be such a smart-arse. I mean, what are you planning to do with the princess?” Crowley leaned in closer, the breath of his words touching Aziraphale’s cheek. “Don’t lie to me.”

 

The angel turned his head and stared at Crowley for a moment, utterly puzzled by the demon’s eyes. Normally, they were yellow, but that colour would be too conspicuous. He sported a pair of arresting, light golden-brown eyes that matched his caramel skin tone and black hair wonderfully. Aziraphale looked down at Crowley’s lips for a moment, then back in his eyes. “I’m not planning anything. I think you’re the one who's scheming here, you old serpent.”

 

Crowley’s hold on Aziraphale’s tunic tightened and he pushed the angel against the wall again. “Really? That’s interesting, since Amenhotep has just told me that he’s going to marry Nefertiti next week!”

 

“Such wonderful news!” Aziraphale smiled. “I haven’t been to a party in years!”

 

Crowley narrowed his eyes as he shoved his enemy once more for good measure.

 

“I’m keeping my eyes on you, angel.”

 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, dear boy.”

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

**A Week Later**

 

Aziraphale was not the slightest bit intimidated by Crowley.

 

He felt the demon’s eyes on him wherever he went, but there was nothing that the snake could possibly discover. In fact, not even Aziraphale himself knew what he was doing there as he hadn’t received any new indications ever since the message a few months before. Maybe he was simply sent to Egypt to neutralise Crowley’s presence. But now, they had a wedding ceremony to worry about, and he had to put these thoughts aside.

 

The day before, he had assisted in Nefertiti’s preparations, and he felt very sorry for the poor girl when the maids told her that her head had to be shaved (as it was the custom amongst wealthy Egyptian women). Seeing the princess’s tears, they tried to console her with the fact that she’d be wearing a heavy wig, an accoutrement which would make her desirable in Amenhotep’s eyes. Nefertiti didn’t see the logic in it, as her hair was thick and voluminous.

 

The angel didn’t either, but they had to defer to Egyptian laws and customs now – right down to the new name the girl had been given, for names were power.

 

As about Aziraphale, he had no intention of cutting his hair. Why would he? Crowley wasn’t shaved, either, and he had a more important function than Aziraphale did.  Anyway, Aziraphale had the power to make people see him any way he wished. However, he didn’t refuse the slave who came to paint his face, as this action was considered to have a spiritual aspect. Aziraphale chose the purple eye-shadow and then let the boy paint his eyelids and outline his eyes with kohl. His cheeks and lips were then accentuated with a bit of red paint.

 

In the end, he was handed a copper mirror and Aziraphale found it difficult to believe that it was his face in the reflection, but he was quite satisfied with the result. His eyes were prominent, and he was amazed that, with the help of the lead-based pigment, they had acquired an almond shape. The slave put perfume on his skin, and Aziraphale went to Tadukhipa's – _Nefertiti’s –_ room.

 

“Are you ready, my lady?”

 

Nefertiti turned around, and Aziraphale gaped at her, not really expecting the change. She was exquisite in her flowing ivory dress, which contrasted in a lovely way with her caramel-coloured skin. The rich golden jewellery accentuated her swanlike neck, and she wore the heavy wig the maids had shown her the day before. She had a similar make-up to Aziraphale’s, only her eye shadow was dark blue, and her lips much redder.

 

“How do I look?” the princess asked tentatively, unused to wearing make-up.

 

“My dear, I see a beautiful, fierce woman who is determined to conquer everyone’s heart tonight,” Aziraphale said with a smile.

 

Nefertiti blushed and linked her arm with Aziraphale’s, the two going to the temple where the ceremony would be held. It was a simple binding ceremony; the celebration after it being much more important. The princess was now by Amenhotep’s side, and Aziraphale watched them from afar as they received gifts from the guests.

 

He had to admit that they looked good together. The pharaoh had make-up on, of course, but he was also wearing a false beard made of human hair to differentiate him from common people. His torso was bare, only having a white kilt, but he had a headdress with a cobra to show his royal descent and a beautiful golden collar adorned with polished pieces of malachite and lapis lazuli.

 

Dancer and musician girls came into the Great Hall and started playing a light melody on their harps and flutes. Food was served soon as well, and Aziraphale marvelled at the amount of tasty dishes placed on the tables.

 

Despite his supernatural powers, Aziraphale didn’t notice the hungry, lingering stare of golden eyes on him.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

Crowley was frustrated. He was also upset, energized, frantic, shocked, ecstatic, and overwhelmed – but, most importantly, _frustrated_.  He was also confused by the cavalcade of feelings whirling in him, and he blamed the angel for it. Everything started in the moment when he set his eyes on Aziraphale in full Egyptian make-up at the bonding ceremony. As if the angel’s eyes needed any more emphasis! Crowley hated lusting after anyone.  He wasn’t supposed to have any weaknesses.

 

The demon watched Aziraphale at the celebration: he seemed to have lots of fun, which, for a strange reason, infuriated Crowley even more. He wanted to see Aziraphale standing miserable in a corner, and yet he was chatting animatedly with the other guest, drinking lots of wine and clapping to the loud music. Then he was invited to the royal couple’s table, and when Aziraphale made Amenhotep laugh, Crowley knew the angel had just gained significant favour.

 

Moreover, the angel amazed everyone with stories about the construction of the Great Pyramids and stories of far away lands and people. He claimed he had read about all those things, but Crowley knew he actually witnessed them, because he had been there, too. But Aziraphale had always been a better storyteller. The demon couldn’t let Aziraphale get into Amenhotep’s good books. But he’d get to that later.

 

He was too busy guzzling wine and glowering miserably in a corner.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

Aziraphale hadn’t lied when he told Crowley that he hadn’t been to a party for years. That was probably the reason why he had consumed excessive wine and was now walking in an instable manner in what appeared to be a garden. Shame he couldn’t see anything in the darkness. His had was foggy, and he couldn’t will himself to sober up, so his legs got tangled up and, somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that he was going to fall face-first and break something.

 

However, in that same obscure part of his mind, he also sensed strong arms catching him and a low voice chiding him: “Bloody angel, don’t you know Egyptian wines are strong? Told you already a few centuries ago that if you can’t hold your liquor, then you shouldn’t drink at all.” It seemed to him that someone carried him to his room and placed him gently on the bed.

 

But that someone had also erased the memory before he exited Aziraphale’s chamber, murmuring to himself about stupid angels who couldn’t even take care of themselves.

 

* * * * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fruit symbolism... also, I hope I didn't mess up the sexy times. ;)

**February, 1352 B.C.**

 

 “You’ve never told me how you met Crowley before,” Nefertiti said, breaking the library's silence.

 

Aziraphale, caught unprepared, opened his mouth and then closed it quickly.

 

“Don’t deny it, I know it’s true.”

 

The angel sighed; since he had to give some kind of explanation he could reveal part of the truth. “I met him in my travels before I settled down at your father’s court. He’s smart and cunning, but I guess we’re just not meant to be friends. We’re too different. Well, at least I _think_ that’s why he dislikes me.”

 

Nefertiti had to stifle her giggling, so she just arched her eyebrows, thinking that it was surprising how someone as clever as Aziraphale could be so dense at the same time. For her, it was clear that Crowley liked her guardian.

 

“But enough about me; tell me how you find your new life.”

 

The princess shrugged. “I’m not complaining; I guess it could be much worse. Amenhotep is kind, and he’s read a lot since he wasn’t actually supposed to be a pharaoh, but maybe a scribe or some kind of official. However, he was shocked when he found out that I am well versed in many areas.”  At that, Nefertiti smiled at Aziraphale, who had been her tutor since she was young. “He says women here don’t really receive that kind of education.”

 

“Hmmm, I thought that would have changed in the years since I’ve been – well, I mean, I heard that women are held in high regard.”

 

“Well, _poor_ women, anyway, don't have the money for it,” Nefertiti stated. “Anyway, Amenhotep was actually glad about it in the end. He’s actually very gallant, not childish like the boys back at home.”

 

Aziraphale thought about the pharoah's difficult past (the old queen, Amenhotep’s mother, had told him about it), but he didn’t want to bring up that topic.

 

“Well, he’s six years older than you. He’s also expected to be mature since he has a country to rule.”

 

Nevertheless, it didn’t slip Aziraphale’s notice the appreciative way his ward talked about the young pharaoh. That meant that maybe the royal couple _could_ have a relationship based on trust and love.

 

 

* * * * *

 

**Several Days Later**

 

Crowley had noticed the angel’s efforts to bring the pharaoh and the princess closer together. Romantic dinners for two, walks together, and other activities in which the demon wanted no part. But he had to keep an eye on Aziraphale, so he was in a dilemma. He thought about entrusting someone with spying on the angel, but slaves weren’t reliable. He was resentful, until he felt something touch his legs.

 

Crowley looked down and realised it was a cat. He wanted to shoo it away, but an idea crossed his mind.

 

He went back to the palace – it was not difficult to find a cat, as they were attracted to the place. No wonder; these people adored them and fed them very well. He found a really nice specimen with midnight black fur and golden eyes. He grabbed it and raised it to his eyes.

 

“Come on, kitty, I have an important mission for you.”

 

“Meow.”

 

* * * * *

 

After he'd made sure that the angel wasn’t there, Crowley sneaked into Aziraphale’s chamber. He had instructed the cat in what he expected: following the angel wherever he went, listening to his secret plans and then reporting back to Crowley (he'd never found animals difficult to communicate with, having spent a considerable amount of time as one himself). He was about to tiptoe out of the room when he heard the sound of water.

 

Crowley couldn’t resist and since curiosity had never _actually_ killed the cat, he peeked into the washroom. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that, but it was too late. A slave boy was pouring water over Aziraphale who was standing with his back to the entrance. The angel threw his head back in delight and raked his hand through his hair. Crowley bit his lower lip and could only stare at the way Aziraphale’s back muscles flexed. And then that round, perfect arse, as if it was meant _just_ for Crowley to…

 

The demon turned back unobserved, threw a warning glance at the cat, and walked out, trembling.

 

* * * * *

 

That same evening, Aziraphale looked as if he was planning something, judging by the mischievous smile he had on his face and the amount of wine he poured into the royals' cups. But Crowley just leaned comfortably against the wall, for his spy was there beside the angel even now and would reveal everything to him.

 

“I see you found a new friend, Master Aziraphale,” the pharaoh’s mother commented.

 

The angel smiled and lifted his pet onto his lap, the cat nuzzling against his chest. “Indeed, this fellow appeared in my room this afternoon and wouldn’t leave my side. He’s quite playful. I've considered naming him Onyx.”

 

The cat seemed to approve of his owner’s choice and purred happily.

 

Crowley was satisfied as well, seeing his little spy so convincing in his act. Aziraphale got up and wished everyone a good night; Crowley followed him **,** beckoning to Onyx that he wanted to talk to him. However, when he got close to the angel, the cat betrayed him and hissed loudly, baring his sharp teeth and glaring at the demon. Crowley was so shocked, he stood there woodenly.

 

Aziraphale looked up apologetically and tried to calm down Onyx. “I don’t know what happened, he’s a sweet cat. Terribly sorry about this incident, Crowley.”

 

“Control your beast next time,” the demon muttered, offended, and stormed away, boiling with rage.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

**March 1352 B.C.**

 

By this time, it was clear to Crowley that he had to operate alone: no more spies or other ridiculous ideas. He could only trust himself. Besides corrupting the citizens of Thebes, his other favourite activity had become the pursuit of annoying Aziraphale. It was just little things: turning the wine in his cup sour, dirtying his favourite clothes, or tripping him up on things that weren’t there a moment before. If his enemy noticed any of these, he didn’t say anything.

 

One afternoon, he noticed that Aziraphale was sneaking after Amenhotep and Nefertiti. The young couple were strolling in the royal garden, one of the most beautiful places in the city. It was incredibly large, but at the same time the many trees offered intimacy. As Crowley exited the palace, there were two rows of painted columns in the middle, supporting grapevines. All around were different fruit trees (fig and date palm), sycamore and acacia.

 

However, the main attraction of the garden, where the royal couple was heading as well, was the rectangular pond in the middle. The pharaoh and his wife were descending some stairs when Crowley thought it would ruin the mood if the princess fell clumsily. However, Aziraphale noticed the demon’s presence as well, and thanks to him, Nefertiti fell in the pharaoh’s arms, which made them blush deeply.

 

Upset that his first trick didn’t work, Crowley resorted to others. The most memorable was when Amenhotep crouched to feed the colourful fish in the pond; the demon made one of thembite the pharaoh’s thumb. Despite his efforts, every one of his attempts either failed or backfired. Nefertiti was now worriedly caressing the pharaoh, asking if he was all right. Crowley rolled his eyes from behind a column at this public display of affection, and then sensed someone stepping beside him.

 

“I don’t think any of your attempts will ruin their afternoon.”

 

Crowley glared at Aziraphale who smiled and touched his shoulder amicably. “Just look at them.”

 

The demon turned his head and watched as Amenhotep and Nefertiti, both kneeling by the pond, looked at each other deeply and leaned in, kissing tentatively at first but more passionately as the minutes passed by. Crowley sighed; he could feel that the couple would be a happy case of arranged marriage.

 

“Don’t fret, my dear, it was meant to be,” Aziraphale whispered and put his arm around a pouting Crowley’s shoulder. “Come, let’s have some beer.”

 

Maybe the angel and the demon thought they remained unnoticed, but Amenhotep and Nefertiti looked at each other and smiled at the sight of their friends.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

**November, 1352 B.C.**

 

“Aziraphale? Where are you going?”

 

The angel turned around and saw Amenhotep looking at him curiously. Aziraphale blushed, not used to getting any attention from the king, and held up a basket saying: “Er… just taking some food to the poor.”

 

“Ah, that's very thoughtful! May I come with you?”

 

Aziraphale hesitated; he wasn’t sure if it was smart to go walking without guards with a leader in the streets of Thebes, but he had the power to make people see the pharaoh as a normal man. Of course, the pharaoh didn’t know that, so he agreed to this only if Amenhotep changed into simpler clothes to disguise himself. Thinking about it, Aziraphale wasn’t sure if the king even had the opportunity to get in touch with his people in the last few months (and maybe this stroll would help him in some way).

 

Amenhotep was silent as he accompanied Aziraphale through narrow streets with rows of shabby mud houses. There were various noises, the loudest being the screams of joy of the naked children who were playing outside. The hot air was almost impossible to breathe in, made even worse by the smell. Even though Aziraphale was busy handing out the contents of his food basket, he noticed the pensive expression on the pharaoh’s face.

 

They made it out of the tiny streets and back to the main road where people were still bustling about, facilitating their blending in. Aziraphale made a comment on how hot was the weather, but Amenhotep just hummed absent-mindedly, his eyes focused on the building in front of them.

 

“Do you want to go inside?”

 

It was only then that Aziraphale noticed where they were: the temple of Amun-Ra, protector of the city and main god. So far, the angel managed to avoid any kind of implication in Egypt’s polytheist religion, but he wasn’t prepared for the proposal. Nevertheless, Amenhotep saw the uncertainty in his eyes, but despite what the angel expected, he only smiled and said:

 

“Don’t fear, my friend. Let’s just sit on these stairs a bit and contemplate things.”

 

They watched silently as people were going in and out of the temple, hoping that their prayers would be heard by Amun. Aziraphale was just about to come up with an explanation – no, it was _not_ a lie – when the pharaoh patted his shoulder in a friendly manner.

 

“You are a wise man, Master Aziraphale. Even if I didn’t trust Nefertiti’s or her father’s opinion about you, I have experienced your knowledge firsthand. Even my best friend Crowley thinks highly of you, and usually he’s extremely critical of people.”

 

Aziraphale almost choked. Crowley thought highly of him? _That_ was news.

 

“That is why I would like to talk with you about something important. You see, Crowley has been telling me for a long time that priests have too much influence on my people, and they get drunk on this power. Look, there’s a good example.”

 

Amenhotep pointed to a round-backed woman who couldn’t be older than forty, but who had been broken by work and worry. She gave a bald priest offerings to the god. There was linen, food, and beer.

 

The pharaoh sighed. “The offering would have been much more useful for her family, and yet she gave it to the priests, because she is blindly hoping that their prayers are better. I cannot let things go this way; I must change them.”

 

Aziraphale was astonished when he heard this. He looked at Amenhotep and he saw determination in the king's dark eyes as he spoke:

 

“I don’t agree with my father’s religion. Take, for example, Amun. He is considered the creator of this world, he created even himself; he’s supposed to be very important, and yet we have all these gods and goddesses governing every aspect of our life. Then we have the priests who are getting more numerous with every year, who think they are superior to everyone.”

 

Aziraphale stared at the pharaoh who was just looking ahead – it seemed he had been nurturing these thoughts for quite some time. The angel could feel that history was being rewritten in that moment.

 

“I pondered matters and talked it over with Nefertiti. We came to the conclusion that we must have all the gods erased except one, have all the temples closed but his, and have all the priests dismissed. This god is powerful enough to govern and care for us alone, because he gives us life. He is Life itself.”

 

Aziraphale asked timidly: “If I may ask, who is this god?”

 

Amenhotep looked at the angel, smiled, then looked up at the sky: “Aten, of course. The Sun. He shines down upon us and makes the whole world grow. What do you say, Master Aziraphale? Am I doing the right thing?”

 

The angel blinked in wonder. “The best, Your Majesty.”

 

Amenhotep smiled, evidently relieved by the answer, and basked in the sunlight while Aziraphale gasped in wonder. The pharaoh had just told him he was going to worship only one god.

 

Aten was a pagan sun god, but it was a good start.

 

The angel smiled victoriously.

 

 

* * * * *

 

**November, 1352 B.C.**

 

Crowley grabbed a candle, lit it with a flick of his wrist, and easily made his way through the silent corridors of the palace. He could have slept, of course, but sometimes he just wanderedaround the palace or the city, not necessarily tempting anyone, just thinking and organising ideas in his head. He thought he saw a light in the kitchen, so he went in that direction.

 

Surprisingly, Aziraphale was sitting at a table, a variety of fruits laid out in front of him. He didn’t even notice Crowley entering the kitchen and looking at him.

 

“Really, angel?”

 

Aziraphale looked up with wide eyes, his mouth stuffed with grapes and dates **.**

“I focus better if I have something to chew on, and dates get boring after a while,” Aziraphale explained and pushed the bowl of fruit towards Crowley.

 

The demon chose a juicy fig, biting into the soft flesh and then sucking on the ripe fruit with great relish. He didn’t notice Aziraphale staring at him.

 

“So what are you doing here?” the angel asked, cutting a piece of cheese that had magically appeared on the table.

 

“I decided to go for a walk when I saw the light here. I didn’t know you like midnight snacks. So rude of you, not inviting me.”

 

Aziraphale kicked Crowley lightly under the table. “I didn’t think you’d find my company agreeable at this hour.”

 

The demon sucked the juice on his thumb and grabbed a beautiful pomegranate, admiring its vibrant colour. “Well, we might have our rough periods, inevitably, since our, uh… but in all these years, you have been the only constant thing in my life.”

 

Aziraphale felt something warm bloom in his chest, andhe smiled. “Are you trying to propose me a truce?”

 

“Why not?” Crowley shrugged.

 

Aziraphale watched the demon offering him a half smile, then turning his attention back to the pomegranate. He took it between his two hands, applied the necessary pressure and halved it with his bare hands. Some of the seeds had burst and the ruby liquid trickled down Crowley’s long, thin fingers. He offered half of the fruit to the angel, their fingers touching.

 

 “We can do our business without interfering with each other’s work, right?”

 

Aziraphale agreed, eating the pomegranate seeds absentmindedly. But he then remembered the afternoon he spent with the pharaoh and bit his lip. He was afraid the demon would be upset when he heard the news.

 

“I’d be more than happy to agree to this, but there's something you need to know. You might not like it.”

 

“If you’re referring to Amenhotep’s plans to introduce monotheism, then I know about it.”

 

Aziraphale let out a relieved sigh and rubbed his face awkwardly with his elegantly-manicured hands.

 

Crowley snorted, nudging his companion with his toes under the table.

 

“Really, angel. I’ve been the guy’s friend for over fifteen years, and you don’t think he’d tell me about it?”

 

“So you’re not mad about it?” Aziraphale asked timidly.

 

“It doesn’t affect my work. If anything, it will probably make it easier since all those priests will be absolutely fuming about it. They’ll do anything to get their power back.”

 

Aziraphale sighed; he didn’t really want to hear about this part. “Just…don’t do anything that will hurt our young couple, all right?”

 

“Why, you got attached?” Crowley teased.

 

“It’s impossible not to when one is this close.”

 

Crowley got up and patted Aziraphale’s shoulder. “It’s all right, I wouldn’t do anything to them.”

 

The angel got up too and stood in front of Crowley, his inquiring look resting on the demon’s face. He took a step, their chests almost touching, and Crowley could have sworn that Aziraphale was going to touch his face or kiss his cheek when the angel’s evil cat, Onyx, appeared out of nowhere and hissed at them, breaking the magic of the moment.

 

Aziraphale apologised profusely about his cat’s behaviour while Crowley, irritated, just mumbled good night and went for a stroll in the deserted city.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

**December, 1352 B.C.**

 

The big day had come: the day when Amenhotep would announce to his court the religious changes he wanted to introduce. If the pharaoh wasn’t nervous, convinced that the loyalty of his subjects was unconditional, Aziraphale was worried on his behalf as well. He didn’t believe that such a drastic change would go so smoothly. Humans were unpredictable.

 

The angel stepped into the throne room, his eyes scanning the agitated crowd of advisors and nobility. Crowley, standing behind the pharaoh’s throne, beckoned to him and Aziraphale joined the demon, taking up his position behind the queen’s throne. Amenhotep and Nefertiti, hand in hand, walked proudly into the room. Not even her large, flowing dress could hide the queen’s advanced pregnancy anymore. The crowd started whispering; people thought that this coupling would be about the offspring.

 

“I have an important announcement to make today,” Amenhotep started. “I plan to bring some changes to our religion and some of these might take you by surprise, but we need to get rid of our old, swiftly-becoming-obsolete beliefs.”

 

The crowd started whispering, confused by the statement.

 

“I am convinced that we need a new god, one who will care better for us than Amun-Ra.”

 

Deadly silence fell on the throne room. Aziraphale looked at Crowley; his dark eyes, too, were filled with uncertainty.

 

Amenhotep continued his speech: “Therefore, I have decided to name Aten our one and only god. He is mighty, infallible, and protective. He provides for us day by day with his holy rays, and we must only worship him. Hence, the names of the other gods and goddesses shall be erased, and their temples closed.”

 

The crowd erupted in loud protests, utterly shocked by the statement. To take their most important god and erase him with a snap of fingers was befuddling to them. Why would Aten gain such an important position? Who would they pray to for a rich crop? Who would watch over and protect their children? Who would guide them through the afterlife?

 

Quite unexpectedly, Nefertiti stepped forward, managing to silence the agitated nobility.

 

“Why are you objecting to these laws? You have sworn loyalty to your pharaoh. He wants the best for all of you. He is a god and he brings this innovation in order to improve your life. Can you not feel Aten’s blessed rays when you go outside?” the queen’s voice quivered; she was struggling to make the people in front of her understand the reasons behind her husband’s decision. “The plants grow thanks to Aten; plants which feed not only your animals, but you and your families as well. We are here, talking to each other because of him. He deserves our love and worship.”

 

Nefertiti wanted to say more, but she clutched her belly.  A rush of fluid ran down her legs. Her alarmed gaze found Amenhotep’s and the pharaoh hurried to her, clutching her hand in his, asking his wife worriedly if she felt all right. Nefertiti nodded, but it was obvious that she felt very weak. Amenhotep, without caring that he was in the middle of an essential meeting, asked Aziraphale to announce the last piece of news. He took Nefertiti in his arms and hurried out of the throne room, shouting to the guards to bring healers to the queen’s chamber.

 

Everyone was still in shock; Aziraphale moved forward hesitantly, unprepared for this turn of events. The voices started getting louder again in the absence of the rulers, so the angel decided that he needed to grab the people’s attention and be done with this meeting as soon as possible. He cleared his throat and was satisfied to see that the faces turned towards him.

 

“The pharaoh also wished to tell you that he has ordered the construction of a glorious temple in honour of our new god Aten. That is all. You can go now.”

 

Aziraphale turned his back to the public and was about to leave when someone shouted:

 

“It’s all your fault, _stranger_!”

 

The last word was without a doubt meant as an offense. Aziraphale stopped and turned back slowly, his eyes landing on one of the noblemen standing in the front row.

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

The man pointed an accusing finger at him. “You brought the princess and, along with her, strange ideas.”

 

Aziraphale looked around confused as the man edged closer to him.

 

“Like a snake, you insinuated yourself into his trust and filled our beloved pharaoh’s mind with heretic thoughts. He would have never come up with such bizarre ideas! One god! Who has heard of such a thing?”

 

Aziraphale was still taken aback by the man comparing him to a snake and didn’t notice when the nobleman jumped in front of him.

 

“We will all have to endure the wrath of the gods because of you!”

 

The man’s fist would have probably landed on the angel’s face, but it was caught midair.

 

“Easy there, pal. Master Aziraphale didn’t do anything to you,” Crowley hissed, his eyes flashing with anger as he let go of the nobleman’s hand.

 

“Are you crazy, too?He wants to destroy us. He cursed the pharaoh and will bring death upon our families!” the man continued, shouting like a lunatic.

 

Aziraphale noticed that Crowley was boiling with rage and was within a hair’s breadth of smiting the man. The angel touched Crowley’s hand briefly. Instead of using violence, Crowley did something else.

 

The man’s shouts ceased unexpectedly, the victim gasping without any sound leaving his throat.

 

“Look, Aten took this heretic’s voice! Oh, how great he is! Praised be your name, wonder-worker mighty Aten!” Crowley exclaimed, feigned pathos colouring his voice.

 

The crowd was shocked beyond words for now, but it would soon turn into chaos. Aziraphale realised it was time to leave. However, when he looked around Crowley had already disappeared. The angel left the room, running through halls and dodging people who looked after him confused. He finally noticed a mop of black hair disappearing around a corner and hurried up.

 

“Crowley!”

 

The demon turned around so abruptly that Aziraphale ran into him, pressing Crowley against a wall. He laughed and smoothed the demon’s tunic before he looked into those wild, golden eyes. Crowley’s pupils dilated in surprise as Aziraphale closed the short distance between them and pressed his lips against the demon’s. Aziraphale’s right hand travelled up slowly from Crowley’s firm chest to his collarbone and then wound his fingers around the demon’s nape, stroking the sensitive skin there. He opened his lips slightly, taking Crowley’s thin upper lip between them and releasing it with a soft pop.

 

“That’s for defending me earlier,” Aziraphale whispered, placing his forehead against Crowley’s.

 

The demon brushed his nose against Aziraphale’s blushing cheek and hugged him tightly to make sure that this was real. After a few blissful moments, he felt the angel slipping from his touch, but he caught Aziraphale’s wrist just in time.

 

“Hey, where are you going?”

 

Aziraphale turned back and explained with a sad smile. “I have to run and see what's going on with Nefertiti. You know healers, I don’t want them to do anything foolish if the birth is problematic. I just wanted to find you first and thank you for what you did.”

 

With an impish smile he added: “Come to my room in the evening.”

 

Crowley could only beam as he watched Aziraphale go, promising to meet him later. He was touching his lips incredulously when Aziraphale ran back and cupped his face, giving the demon another kiss.

 

Crowley whimpered helplessly.

 

“I _do_ like you, my dear,” Aziraphale said before he disappeared for good.

 

 

* * * * *

 

**Several Hours Later**

 

Crowley found out from the maids that Nefertiti indeed had trouble giving birth; she had been in labour for a few hours. The demon found Amenhotep pacing nervously in the halls. No wonder he was so anxious – many women died while giving birth, and a lot of newborns didn’t make it to their first birthday.

 

Knowing that Aziraphale had been working hard, Crowley decided to spoil his favourite angel. Naturally, there were Ulterior Motives behind his actions; his efforts were all going to be worth it in the end. He sent away the servant boy, made the necessary preparations and waited for the angel.

 

Aziraphale arrived not much later, a bit tired, but glad that both Nefertiti and her baby girl were all right. He stopped at the entrance; for a moment he thought he had mistaken the room: it was lit softly by many candles aligned around the walls. Aziraphale looked around amazed and smiled when he noticed Crowley.

 

The demon turned around and smiled, satisfied with the way Aziraphale’s eyes grew wider when he took him in. Indeed, Crowley looked very handsome in the golden light. Aziraphale noted that the demon was only wearing a kilt, his chest bare, except for the gold collar with malachite. Needless to say that the demon had a very fit, muscular body that attracted everyone’s attention, but he only wanted to seduce Aziraphale.

 

“Angel…” Crowley said as he attacked Aziraphale’s mouth.

 

 Aziraphale was so engrossed in the kiss that he didn’t even notice when Crowley guided him towards the bed.

 

“Let’s take off your tunic,” the demon murmured against Aziraphale’s jaw.

 

“Ah, I think I need a drink before…” the angel confessed, rubbing his face sheepishly.

 

“I was just about to offer a massage, angel,” he laughed when Aziraphale looked relieved. “But I brought wine as well.”

 

The demon handed a cup of wine to Aziraphale and snorted when the angel gulped it down quickly. His tunic vanished in the next moment and Crowley barely had a few seconds to admire the angel’s broad torso before Aziraphale plopped down on the bed, smiling at Crowley over his shoulder.

 

The demon took a pot containing scented oil from the table and straddled Aziraphale’s backside. The angel was still wearing a kilt, but Crowley was satisfied for now.

 

He poured a little oil on his left palm and rubbed his hands together to warm it. Aziraphale let out a content sigh as the demon’s long, deft fingers started massaging his neck and shoulders. He didn’t even realise how tense he was, so Crowley’s massage felt divine. The demon revelled in Aziraphale’s moans and he couldn’t hide it as he rubbed his erection against the angel’s backside. He got up and ordered the angel to turn around.

 

Crowley had barely time to straddle Aziraphale when the angel grabbed a handful of black hair and brought Crowley down, his thumbs caressing the demon’s sharp cheekbones gently. If at first their kisses were chaste, tasting each other delicately, they became more frantic as their hands explored smooth skin.

 

Aziraphale was the first to arch his back, bucking against Crowley’s erection for more friction.

 

“Crowley!”

That shout was the demon’s cue to vanish their kilts, thus increasing their pleasure as there were no more clothes between them.  He leaned in to kiss along Aziraphale’s pale neck.

 

However, he didn’t expect the angel’s oil slicked finger to tease his entrance.

 

“What are you doing?” he hissed with surprise.

 

“What do you think, my dear?” Aziraphale laughed and started moving his finger inside the demon, silencing Crowley with another kiss.

 

Crowley feigned indignation at the angel taking the lead, but he was, in fact, very turned on.

 

Soon, a second finger was pressed into him, and Crowley whimpered into Aziraphale’s blonde hair as he started adjusting to the feeling. He pushed against the angel’s fingers and smiled, grabbing the oil pot. The demon dipped his fingers into it and reached behind his back, curling his fingers around the base of Aziraphale’s cock. He oiled it with slow, deliberate motions, licking his lips when the angel moaned his name.

 

Finally, he pressed Aziraphale’s cock against his entrance and breathed in calmly as he took in the whole length. Aziraphale watched Crowley with sheer admiration – the demon looked stunning as he towered over him with his flawless caramel skin. He was still wearing the golden collar which reflected the candles’ light. The angel’s fingers travelled from Crowley’s thighs to his hips and started moving slowly.

 

“That’sss it, angel,” Crowley hissed.

 

The demon had just admitted to himself that he enjoyed riding Aziraphale when, suddenly, he was flipped on his back.

Crowley didn’t waste time and discovered the advantages of this position: he could finally touch Aziraphale’s deliciously round arse. His hands were there in the next second and he gripped the buttocks firmly, making sure to bring their bodies closer and increase the friction. He was sure that he was already leaking and sped up the back and forth movements of his hands on the angel’s arse.

 

Aziraphale obliged and moved a bit to left, this change making Crowley howl with pleasure.

 

“Harder, angel, _harder_!”

 

Aziraphale wondered if he was really there or if he was having a naughty dream, because his whole body was tingling with desire and the promise of pleasure. Crowley noted how the angel sometimes opened his eyes and kissed him, his face breaking into a wide smile. His arms moved to the angel’s strong back, hugging him close and his slender legs winding around Aziraphale’s waist.

Crowley had never expected the burst of sensation when the angel hit a certain spot inside him. It was as if he flew to the stars and fell back to Earth in the fraction of a second. In fact, he had just left red marks on Aziraphale’s back, and he had probably awakened half of the palace with his shouting.

 

“Right there, please, _keep going -_ ”

 

The angel was breathing heavily, driving into Crowley so hard that he knew the bed would need to be fixed later. He was very close now; the rhythm of his hips became erratic. Crowley’s right hand sneaked between their sweaty bodies and tugged at his cock frantically.

 

Aziraphale placed his hand on Crowley’s face and caressed his cheek gently, the gesture and the pleasure-clouded eyes of Aziraphale pushing the demon over the edge. The angel watched as Crowley’s pupils dilated and he followed him, riding out his orgasm and clutching the demon’s shoulders tightly.

Aziraphale rolled off the demon, and he cleaned their bodies after he composed himself.

 

Crowley turned towards him and Aziraphale mirrored his position, smiling at the demon’s dishevelled hair. They lay like that for a while. Aziraphale leaned in to kiss Crowley, but the demon stopped him:

 

“Angel, your stupid cat is staring at us. I don’t think he’s happy.”

 

“Don’t worry, dear boy. Onyx, be a nice cat and leave Crowley alone. He didn’t do anything to me.”

 

The demon poked Aziraphale’s belly. “Hey!”

 

“All right, actually Crowley made me feel wonderful, so really, there is no need to be rude…”

 

“Onyx, what are you…”

 

“AZIRAPHALE! GET THIS BEAST OFF OF ME!”

 

Onyx was only satisfied after he left a few scratches on Crowley. He then jumped off the bed and disappeared into the night as if nothing had happened, leaving Aziraphale to comfort the demon and promise Crowley to make up for his wounds.

 

 

* * * * *

 

**May, 1353 B. C.**

 

Amenhotep and Nefertiti were in the garden, playing with their baby daughter.

 

The court sculptor was also there, making a sketch of the royal family for a bronze plate. He was a bit confused, because these plates usually depicted the pharaoh and his family in formal positions, but Amenhotep (who in the meantime had decided to change his named to Akhenaten in honour of Aten) insisted that they were shown the way they were, without any modifications, to make them more beautiful.

 

The sculptor had also included in the sketch two close friends of the family who were sitting in the back of the garden, chatting and laughing softly. Although everyone in the pharaoh’s court knew them well, more than three thousand years later the Egyptologists had no idea about the identity of the two figures.

 

They simply assumed that the two men were part of the royal family.

 

And they were absolutely right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the story, let me know what you think about it!


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